If At First You Don't Succeed
by HigherMagic
Summary: Sam just wants them to get together. Gabriel wants it to be more of a…spectacle. In the end, though, some of the simplest solutions are everyone's favorite 'Plan B'.


Title: If At First You Don't Succeed, Reach For The Holy Oil  
Author: HigherMagic  
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel  
Rating: NC-17  
Warnings: Um…Gabriel being Gabriel. Sam being a 'little brother'. Ridiculous talk of Dean/Cas UST and some boy-lovin', with a little crack to top it off.

Notes/Prompt(s): The prompts were **1.** Some cute AU where Dean visits Sam at college and meets Cas and they end up getting an apartment and, like, nest.  
**2.** Sam and Gabriel disagree about how to deal with Dean and Cas's, uh, ridiculous UST.  
**3.** OUT OF LEFT FIELD HERE, in the spirit of 4.16, Dean has to torture someone (idgaf why). Cas is powerless to help, but has to watch. All the details, emotional and otherwise. h/c very optional.

I tried to just go with number two but somehow a little of number one slipped in there as well. I'm sorry if you don't like it – I'll happily write another. It just got away from me and turned way more cracky than I'd intended (: I'm totally on board with writing #three, as well, but adorableness seemed more called for here.

* * *

"I know! We could -."

"No."

There's a pause, and it's one of those 'I cannot believe you just said that' kinds of pauses, in which Gabriel stared at Sam as though he'd sprouted six more heads and started dancing 'The Cupid Shuffle'. It was the kind of long stare that made Sam want to rub at his face to see if he had some lunch still stuck there. "What?"

"You don't even know what I was going to say." And yes, Gabriel pouts. Archangel of Heaven, Messenger of God, pouts at Sam. Because puppy-dog eyes are a two-way street, baby.

Sam sighed the sigh of the long-suffering, puffing some of his fringe out of his face. "I know what you were thinking, and 'No'. Anything that comes out of your head is damaging to people's health."

Gabriel smirked a little and Sam knew he was making that dirty – though _how _was beyond him. "Seriously, Gabriel, focus."

"Oh, I'm focusing."

"_On the issue, Gabriel." _Sam was dangerously close to doing that 'bitch voice' that Dean hated so much, and it kind of grated on Gabriel too – he loved the kid, really he did, but honestly Sam was such a _little brother. _

But he sighed and subsided because _somehow, _miraculously, the younger Winchester had managed to get under his skin and he kinda-sorta had a crush on Sam (well he _was _sleeping with the kid, so they really hoped so), so he'd curb his tongue for now.

There were several more awkward moments, mouths opening and then closing, forced shut by disapproving glares, before Gabriel snapped his fingers. Sam managed to control his flinch just in time, having immediately assumed Gabriel was about to snap up an illusion or something – really, he couldn't have picked a less well-used habit or something?

Gabriel smiled the smile of the insane sadist, grinning at Sam. "I know. Zombie Apocalypse."

"Zombie Apoca… Gabriel, how does that solve anything?" Sam griped at him, pulling 'Bitch Face Number Six – I Cannot Believe You Just Suggested Such A Moronic/Perverse Thing'.

"Zombie Apocalypses solve everything, Sammy. Just look at Hollywood."

"Gabriel, I think you're missing the point here."

"There are many points, Samuel Winchester, and I miss none of them," Gabriel replied in a mock-serious voice.

Sam exhaled, the air heavy with exasperation, because yeah; Gabriel has a crush on Sam, but it's in the schoolyard way – the way where the boy will pull on the girl/other boy's pigtails/ridiculously floppy hair and throw mud at her/him and generally make her/his life a living hell 'cause he likes her/him so much. This sigh was also accompanied by 'Bitch Face Number Thirteen – Will You _Please_ Focus And Get To The Point Before My Gigantor Head Explodes Leaving Just My Hair And A Pair Of Smoking Boots Behind?'

…What? Some of the 'bitch faces' have long names.

Sam took another deep breath, and Gabriel took great delight in watching the little vein in Sam's temple throb. "Look, Gabriel, this is serious. I don't think they even realize how the other feels about each other! I don't want…" Sam trailed off, but Gabriel kind of knew exactly how he felt. They didn't want their brothers to be all alone – Cas a near-fallen Angel and Dean with his inferiority complex, and both of them so freaking obviously _made _for each other and _guh. _It's as frustrating as it is kinda-sorta adorable.

"I get it, Sammy, I do, but I'm not sure why there has to be a _plan. _Plans _fail. _Why can't we just do the whole 'divide and conquer' sort of thing? Like they do in sitcoms?"

Sam rolled his eyes, expression bordering on just the edge of yet another 'exasperated little brother' face, also known as 'Bitch Face Number Two'. "Because, Gabe, that doesn't actually work, you know, and denial runs deep in the Winchester veins. Dean wouldn't believe you even if you made Castiel write it in his own blood in front of him."

Gabriel actually smirked at the image.

"And doesn't Castiel think that he's not worthy or something?" Sam added, raising an eyebrow at the Archangel, who nodded, lips pursed in thought as Gabriel conjured a candy bar into existence in his hands, unwrapping it and taking the first bite. Sam sighed; "Eesh, with all the problems those two have we could probably make a museum."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, but then passed it off as some geeky euphemism and went back to happily brainstorming non-threatening, hopefully-embarrassing/awkward ways to get their brothers together that didn't involve grievous/permanent bodily harm.

He kept coming up blank.

Until…

"I've got it," he suddenly said, after Sam had begun dozing where his head rested on his folded arms on top of the coffee table in the motel room the two were gathered in (breathe). Gabriel sat forward, vibrating with an energy that made Sam nervous, and his hands positioned so they became the corners of a movie screen. Between his hands a scene began to play, and Sam watched as Gabriel described his plan (in the deep movie-promo man voice that people seemed so fond of nowadays);

"Meet Dean. Jock, king of the college, loved by the people. Player extraordinaire. Dates all the guys and the girls; the Heartbreaker." The scene changed from a picture of Dean in a school football jersey high-fiving a member of his (supposed) football team (of which he was apparently the captain) to an image of Sam, four years younger and a newcomer in that college; "Dean's life is changed one day when he makes a bet with his little brother, Sam, to win the heart of the school recluse – Castiel Novak."

Gabriel's hands swirled in the air, the scene evaporating to create a Star Wars-type illusion of 3D people interacting, milling about the large brick-and-limestone buildings of a college campus. In the middle of the 'square' is a fountain, where a slightly younger Jimmy Novak sits, typing away on a small Toshiba netbook.

"A recluse, keeping to himself, Castiel is the mystery of the school. People say there's a reason, but no one's bothered to get close enough. Until now…" Again Gabriel's hands moved, and the picture vanished. "Join Dean and Castiel through their mixed adventure of college life, love, secrets and bets, and stay tuned for the explosive…finale."

Sam jumped as, from _somewhere, _Gabriel managed to summon up a live studio audience sound effect, the hotel room filled with laughing and cheering, and Gabriel grinned, taking a bow to the invisible spectators.

"Gabriel…" Oh, the Archangel knew that voice. And the face that accompanied it. It was almost the same as 'Bitch Face Number Six – I Cannot Believe You Just Suggested Such A Moronic/Perverse Thing', but with the subtle nuances that changed it into 'Bitch Face Number Seven – That Is The Stupidest Thing I've Ever Heard'.

People have tried to count how many 'bitch face's Sam Winchester actually has. The record so far is two-hundred-and-seventy-eight. Gabriel's been paying attention.

"You're suggesting trapping our brothers in 'TV Land'?" Sam asked, desperately grasping at straws to see if he was wrong because honestly, Gabriel is not _that…_well, mean.

Gabriel grinned, and apparently yes – yes he is. "Not quite, Sammy," he said, hopping down from the windowsill he'd perched on after finishing his candy bar, snapping away the wrapper. "It'll be more like Zachariah's illusion. Dean and Cas will actually think they're in college, and they're human and they don't know each other. You'll bet Dean he can't get Cas to like him or something, and then vwabam!" He smacked his palm against the fist he'd made with his other hand. "When they _do _get together, I'll put their memories back in place and it'll be quite dramatic and Dean probably won't speak to either of us for a while, but no doubt Dean will have said some undoubtedly sappy or honest thing while in my illusion and Castiel won't be able to let it go, because my brother is a stubborn little bastard when he wants to be, and they'll all be ready and together and thanking us in time for 'Oprah'."

Sam bit his lower lip, frowning a little because though he was dubious, that actually sounded plausible – hell, even accurate. But… "You'll really think Castiel will even go for my brother in this illusion?"

Gabriel grinned – "Hey, the guy already worships him. I don't think that'll be any different in college."

"I can't believe I'm saying this…"

"Yeah?"

"But…"

"Yes, Sammy? Come on…"

"Fine. We'll do it."

Gabriel smiled, slinging an arm around Sam's shoulder while he could, because when Sam was sitting down they were almost on the same level. "Atta boy, Sammy – I knew I could get you to come around….Again." He winked, and Sam's eyes rolled, and then there was a snap of fingers and the world stopped spinning for a second.

They were five days into the illusion when Sam realized why he'd had doubts about this in the first place – Dean refused to accept his bet.

Despite Gabriel insisting that he would think otherwise, this version of Dean was adamant that he was incredibly, no-two-ways-about-it, one hundred and thirty percent straight. This, of course, threw up roadblocks when Sam tried to bet him to date a guy. Normally Dean would have risen to the challenge, but apparently this 'college boy' Dean that Gabriel had given the memories and personality of didn't see that sort of thing as a challenge – he just called Sam weird and walked away.

So that didn't work.

"My turn," Sam said, grinning as Gabriel sighed and huffed and pouted, to no avail; they were doing this Sam's way now. The Archangel obediently snapped his fingers, wiping away the 'college life' memories from Dean and Castiel, and Sam took his brother aside to try and explain things to him, assuming Gabriel would be doing the same thing with Castiel.

"What's the matter, Sam?" Dean asked, eyes slightly dark with worry at Sam's sober attitude when he'd approached Dean, demanding to talk to him 'alone'. Dean's mind kept coming up with words like 'Demon blood' and 'Intervention' and 'Apocalypse' – things that, you know, might not trouble a normal person, but Sam surprised him.

"We need to talk about Cas," the younger Winchester said, and before Dean could reply he added; "And you. You, and Cas, together." He laced his fingers together. "And why the both of you seem so completely oblivious when it comes to the relationship you so obviously already have."

Dean balked, leaning away from Sam and coughing awkwardly, trying and failing to stop his flush. "I think you're confusing me with a rom-com, Sammy. There's no 'Me and Cas'."

"Dean," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows it. The stares, the telepathic 'soul-deep' communication, the way he rebelled and lost everything just because you asked him to. The guy's so obviously in love with you it's insane, and I think you like him back."

There's another silence, one of those 'weighing up' silences where the Winchester brothers spent a few minutes staring each other down…only Sam refused to back down. He was right. He knew it, Dean knew it, and one of them would break first and it certainly wouldn't be him.

Dean leaned forward suddenly, lowering his voice into an urgent half-whisper. "Alright, look," he growled, jaw clenched and tone tight, almost growling at Sam; "_There_ _is no me and Cas. _There can't be, okay? Even if you were right – and that's a big freaking '_If' , _Sammy – there's no way it'll work. I can't…do that to him, Sam. I can't do it, and I'm not freakin' worth it. So can it, and keep your thoughts to yourself, because I can't afford to lose him as a friend."

"But you could gain something more than friendship, Dean," Sam replied, voice lowering to the same pitch as his brother's, just as urgent and secretive. "He's in love with you – You're in love with him. I fail to see how this is a problem, here."

"He's an _Angel, _Sam."

"So's Gabriel."

Dean's jaw clenched harder, if it were possible, and Sam could swear he heard Dean's teeth grinding together – he hated the thought of his little brother and the Archangel together. "Yes, but Gabriel rebelled already, skipped out of Heaven, _isn't falling, _and isn't stupidly dependant on us. Gabriel is…It's not the same."

Sam rolled his eyes, and said nothing, but his silence spoke for him.

"Just no, Sam," Dean finally said, his tone stern and clipped, standing up. "And we'll never talk about it again. Now, do we have a hunt or don't we?"

"Well, mine was a bust," Gabriel announced loudly, flouncing into the motel bedroom that Sam was the only one currently occupying, Dean and Castiel having gone out to question the witness to a haunting. Gabriel plopped down onto the bed, scratching absently at the side of his face as he looked over at Sam. "Yours any better?" he asked without much hope.

Sam shook his head, sighing. "No. Dean's so sure he'll fuck it up if he's with Cas that I don't think there's any way we could convince him otherwise."

"Same sort of thing my end. He's willing to admit he wants Dean – though he can't really lie to me – but he's all about worshipping 'The Righteous Man' and being with Dean is something he's not worthy of doing and blah-de-blah-de-fucking _blah."_

Gabriel flopped back down, stretching over the side of the bed until his back cracked in several places, sighing when he relaxed again. "Unless you'll let me do the Zombie Apocalypse, I'm out of non-fatal ideas."

"I don't even get how fatality would solve the problem."

Gabriel sat up, fixing Sam with a look. "Castiel marked Dean's soul when he pulled him out of Hell – the handprint. When Dean dies and goes to Heaven the Angels will know he belongs to Castiel, and he'll be put in a place where Castiel will be around him almost all the time. They'll never be able to leave each other."

"That sounds…kind of genius," Sam said, tapping a pencil against his lower lip. "That could work."

"But we'd have to kill Dean."

"…Right."

"Right."

"So…no, then."

"Don't think you'd want to resort to fratricide."

"No."

"Yeah."

"Plan B?"

"Sure," Gabriel replied, rolling onto his stomach so he was still facing Sam, feet lifted up over his legs so they flailed in the air like the typical gossiping schoolgirl, crossing and re-crossing at the ankles. "That can be 'Plan B'. But for a Plan B we need a Plan A. Ideas?"

Sam shrugged, and fell asleep thinking about it.

After another fruitless day of trying and failing to get Dean and Castiel together – during which time Sam and Gabriel had tried such things as changing the vessel; placing them in various alternate realities that would put Disney to shame; pissing off Sirens and Mermaids to try and get them to curse Dean and Castiel (it hadn't worked, but Sam and Gabriel had had some fun as a result anyway), and trying to get Dean to touch or work with various cursed objects that would make him either relentlessly sexually charged until he was forced to sleep with Cas as a result (didn't work – he went with girls and guys from a bar until it wore off), or make him think the person he was in love with (Cas) was going to leave forever, which would make them have to confess their feelings(which also didn't work because either the victim always got in the way or Cas stepped in and made Dean avoid it, and Dean already had come to terms with Castiel leaving at some point so it probably wouldn't have worked anyway…)

I've lost where I was going with this.

The point is, Sam and Gabriel tried, and failed. Many, many times. It was getting kind of frustrating, as was visible by the agitated jerking and ruffle of Gabriel's feathers in Sam's hands as he tried to groom his Archangel that night, and kept getting almost hit in the face whenever Gabriel would start muttering to himself about how brainless their brothers were, and his wings would start showing the physical side of his aggravation and almost hit Sam.

Eventually the younger Winchester had to give up trying to calm Gabriel down and simply sat in front of him, where it was marginally safer.

"Do you have any more bright ideas?" Sam asked, and he couldn't help the slight petulance in his tone, because trying to get Dean to fall into these dangerous, powerful traps was a lot of hard work and he'd always had to be the one to do it because Dean was always instantly on alert around Gabriel, and actually trusted Sam somewhat.

"You know what?" Gabriel snapped, eyes flashing to Sam's face, expression set and dark. "Fuck it."

He snapped, and disappeared, and Sam was left wondering just exactly what Archangels did as _their _'Plan Z's'.

Gabriel appeared in Dean's room, where Castiel was conveniently also situated, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright, I've had enough."

Castiel was immediately tense and wary, but Dean hardly looked up from where he was cleaning his gun. "Of what, Gabriel?" he asked, voice heavy with weariness – he just wanted to go to sleep; the previous hunt had been exhausting.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and Dean and Cas were suddenly rammed together on the middle of one of the beds in the room. Before they could react Gabriel snapped again, and flames let up around them, ceiling-high.

Castiel immediately tried to leave the circle, for Dean's proximity was making him uncomfortable and flames couldn't really hurt him permanently, but Gabriel's voice stopped him; "That's Holy Fire, bro. I wouldn't touch it if I were you. And Dean," he shifted his dark eyes to the Hunter; "They're designed to hurt you too. You may think it's only a thin wall of fire but if you go into it, it'll never stop, and you'll burn alive."

"What the fuck are you playing at, Gabriel?" Dean growled, half-angry and half-afraid, deliberately placing his body between Castiel's and the closest wall of flame, which happened to be in front of Gabriel. "Let us out. Now."

"No can do, Dean-o," Gabriel replied, sighing lightly with a roll of his eyes and a shift of his weight onto one leg, nonchalant as ever. "The flames will only go out when I deem it good and ready, and you two pigheaded, idiotic sons of bitches come to realize that you're _meant _to be together, and mean it. Now, this might take a while, so I'd better get going, and you two better hurry up – I'm sure you won't want to stay in there for the rest of eternity."

Castiel's face was impassive, unreadable, but his tone was the closest Dean had ever heard it come to threatening – "Let us go, right now, Gabriel. This is no business of yours."

"I didn't want to have to resort to this, Castiel, I really didn't. But you left me no choice – as always. I'll come back when you're ready to man up and accept each other." Another snap of fingers, and he was gone, and there was silence in the room except for the crackling of flames.

Gabriel appeared in Sam's room again moments later, dusting his palms off into the air. "There. Done and done."

"What did you do?" Sam asked, a little wary to actually know the answer. "Did you actually kill them?" Well, it _had _been their original Plan B.

Gabriel shook his head. "Almost, but not quite. They're currently trapped in a ring of Holy Fire and I'm only going to let them out when they do the nasty. It might take a while."

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Anyway. Wanna watch some porn while we're waiting?"

Dean looked over at Castiel once Gabriel had snapped out of the room. He looked…pokerfaced. Calm, collected, his back as close as it could get to the fire without being burned and killed. Dean took stock of their situation – the flames were in a ring around the bed Gabriel had zapped them onto, stretching so there was about a foot of floor on either side, but cutting off so that Dean couldn't reach his phone or weapons, or turn on the fire alarm in the room to put it out. They were stuck, it seemed.

He sighed, sitting back, determined to wait it out if all else failed – Sam wouldn't let Gabriel let them starve, he was _almost _certain. There was certainly no way in Hell he was going to…do what Gabriel wanted. He wasn't stupid and he certainly wouldn't mess everything up with Castiel because an Archangel got bored.

Still… "I'm sorry, Cas," he said, flashing his eyes over to the Angel, noticing that Castiel had mirrored his posture; back to the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. Castiel turned to him, questioning; "About all this." He gestured vaguely to the flames. "Gabriel's being stupid."

There's another silence – they seem to be a thing with Winchesters and Angels. "I imagine he'll tire of this game eventually," Castiel replied after a moment, and was Dean imagining the slight sigh to his Angel's voice?

Wait…back up. _His _Angel?

Well…technically, no. Castiel wasn't even all-Angel anymore. But that's not the point. Castiel didn't _belong _to Dean. He didn't. And Dean didn't have his own personal Angel, regardless of what the evidence might show, and just because Castiel yanked him out of Hell, _marked _him, stayed with him, rebelled for him…

Okay, so maybe Castiel was kinda-sorta-crazy-in-love, but Angels are _made _of love. That's kind of their thing. It doesn't make Dean Winchester special.

He could feel Castiel's eyes boring into the side of his head, and though Dean was used to the long, meaningful glances sent his way – given and received – this one made him feel…different. It wasn't like Castiel was trying to get inside his head…it was like he was willing Dean to come _out _of his head. And there's no way anyone would be able to tell that from a _feeling _about a _look, _and Dean is totally not listening to his brain anymore because it's not making sense.

None of this makes sense.

"Dean…" The Hunter turned his head, meeting Castiel's gaze head-on, now, and yeah, there's heat there. It has always been there. Dean looked away again, punching himself mentally for being too chicken to hold the gaze.

"Yeah, Cas?" he asked, throat suddenly dry.

"If we can move the sheets, perhaps we can bunch them up and make a barrier that would break the circle, and I could get out and put out the flames."

Dean thought for a moment, and that sounded like a decent plan, so he nodded, swallowing slightly and glad suddenly for the foot of space around the bed, which allowed him to get off it and pull the duvet cover and sheets from off the mattress, getting all the fabric because he didn't want to take any chances with – "Hey, no! Don't move!" he growled when Castiel tried to get off the bed too, to help him.

The Angel fixed him with an intense look, and Dean blamed his flush on the heat of the fire; "If you even brush those flames, you die. I'm not takin' any chances. Stay on the bed," he ordered gruffly, waiting until Castiel had moved to the now-bare side of the bed so Dean could gather up the rest of the sheets, pulling them into a giant pile, which he then gathered to himself and, with a lowly muttered 'Here goes nothing', threw them onto the ring of fire.

For a moment, it seemed like that would do the trick, separating the flames enough to allow a gap for both of them to jump through, but within a second the flames seemed to _growl, _and closed together again, covering the bed sheets as though they weren't there, and Dean swore.

"It was a good idea, Cas," he said, crawling back up onto the bed; "But no dice."

Castiel sighed again. "I am sorry, Dean – I thought it would work."

"Don't sweat it. I'm just going to have to shiv your brother when we get out of here."

"_If _we get out of here."

"Why Cas," Dean said, looking over to the Angel, "I never figured you for a cynic."

Castiel blinked, sensing that there might be sarcasm in there but not quite able to tell, before replying; "I am not being cynical, Dean, but Gabriel is very powerful and if he doesn't want us to get out, I have the feeling that we will not be able to until he is either bored or satisfied."

Dean shifted back against the headboard, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest. Well…this sucked. It was basically a stubborn-off, and while Dean was fairly certain he could give Gabriel a run for his money, the Archangel could easily wait until he starved to death or something. Dean might be proud, but he's not _that _hardheaded.

"Cas…" The Angel turned his head, struck by the thoughtful-serious tone in his Human's voice. Dean's fingers were digging into his biceps to stop them fidgeting, his gaze focused determinedly outward. "If we were to do it – sleep together, I mean – it wouldn't change anything, would it? I mean…it's for the sake of freedom, right?"

And isn't _that _a loaded question and a half? And it wasn't fair, because Castiel had no idea what the right answer was – there was what _he _wanted to say and what he thought Dean wanted to hear, and Castiel didn't know which one was the right one.

"If it gives you comfort to see it that way," he simply replied, facing away as Dean's eyes flashed his way, surprise and sudden desire flashing through the Hunter, because that response was, in a way, exactly what he'd been looking for. Affirmation that this wasn't some unrequited puppy love, a one-sided _want _that he'd been fighting for so long.

It was like this circle was…safe. Between him and Castiel, and there's no one to watch or judge – not even God or his servants. Just them.

"Look at me, Cas."

When the Angel obeyed, Dean met him in a kiss, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Castiel's before he could convince himself to chicken out again. It was gentle and chaste and slightly off-centre, driven that way by the motion, but there was _warmth. _So much of it, like a dam had been wiped clean away and all the feelings behind it were cascading around them. Castiel was suddenly very aware of the fire, for his vessel was shivering, and he pressed into Dean's suddenly-obvious body warmth, seeking it out like all mammals do. Dean pushed Castiel gently so he was laying on his back on the bed, cupping the back of the Angel's head to keep them kissing as he hovered over Castiel, supporting himself almost completely off Castiel's body.

That wouldn't do; Castiel wanted the human's warmth, and let out a tiny, needy little sound, arching up as his lips parted, jaws coaxed to open with Dean's thumb pressing gently at the hollow of his cheek, making the Angel open up for him. Dean's tongue was a gift and a weapon all at once, sliding in, smooth and skilled, into Castiel's mouth to brush along the Angel's, and Castiel whined against Dean, his fingers flexing in the air, inches from Dean's body, afraid to touch.

Dean pulled away slowly, every muscle in his body tense and quivering, looking down into Castiel's wide eyes with awe and love, a little afraid that he was about to get smote where he lay, and when nothing happened he dove in again, eager for that little taste that he'd always thought about – fantasized about, _craved – _for so long that it was just feeding his addiction, now.

The hand that had been at Castiel's head drew away, finding Castiel's fingers and placing them along Dean's body, so that one of Castiel's hands splayed over the side of his rib-cage, able to feel the expand-and-contract movement of his breathing, and the other slid home right over his handprint on Dean's shoulder. The sensation was dulled through clothes, but both of them felt that unbearable heat from the contact, shivering in response as though fevered. Castiel gripped tighter onto Dean, desperate for the contact he'd been craving as he tilted his head, deepening their kiss when Dean answered and met him, finally lowering his body to rest over Castiel's, more contact and warmth between them, and _fuck, _they were wearing too many clothes.

They both seemed to realize this at the same time, and while Dean was slow and methodical about it, Castiel tore – impatient, demanding, he almost growled at Dean when the Hunter forced his hands to still, grinning at the expression on Castiel's face. "Patience, Angel," the Hunter murmured, nuzzling into Castiel's racing pulse, "I'm going to do this right."

Castiel mewled against Dean, clutching at him, and gasping when Dean moved his mouth down, biting very lightly at Castiel's neck and collarbone. "Please, Dean, _please…"_

"Shh," Dean replied, one hand against Castiel's heart, brushing his thumb over a nipple, which caused Castiel to bite his lip, stifling a moan, and Dean pushed Castiel's coat and suit jacket off in one go, tossing it somewhere – probably burning in the flames – and kicked off his boots at the same time, because just because he wanted to do it right doesn't mean he wanted to make Castiel wait too long – it would be over before it even started.

He purred when Castiel laced his fingers through his hair, just shy of clawing at him, feeling the rough sensation of fingernails against his scalp, and his mouth followed his fingers as he unbuttoned Castiel's dress-shirt, pushing the two sides apart to get at the pale, unmarred skin. By the end of it Castiel would have several love bites that, luckily, he wouldn't ever have to explain, but would keep far beyond his vessel's ability to heal.

Dean sat up from where he knelt between Castiel's legs, pulling at the Angel's shoulders so Castiel sat up and Dean could push his shirt away. Castiel, catching onto Dean's intent, eagerly shed the piece of clothing, his hands dipping under the hem of Dean's t-shirt and sliding up, making the Hunter shudder and growl. Dean raised his arms without being told, his breathing getting heavier as Castiel held his gaze, the only break being when the t-shirt was taken off and thrown away.

The two men shifted, suddenly but completely in sync, so that Castiel ended up straddling Dean's lap, his arms wrapped around the Hunter's shoulders, their foreheads resting together. Dean's eyes dropped to half-mast when he met Castiel's lips again, discovering with a moan of pleasure that the Angel was a remarkably quick learner when it came to the kissing department, and finding that the Angel didn't mind one bit digging his nails into Dean's shoulders and the back of his neck, giving as good as he got when Dean's hold turned a little rougher than what he could get away with, with another human. Neither of them was going to break with a little rough handling.

Castiel gasped when Dean's hand unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, lightly rubbing against Castiel's cock with a questioning, hopeful glance, praying to a God he didn't quite believe in that he wouldn't be pushed away now. Castiel's eyes were lust-black, purring into Dean's mouth as he began to grind against Dean's hand, desperate for more of that friction, stifling his groans against Dean's lips.

Dean pulled away after a moment, desperate for air which his burning lungs eagerly pulled in, forehead resting against Castiel's neck. He bit down lightly over the Angel's pulse and was rewarded with another barely-restrained whimper.

"Come on, Cas," he murmured, "let me hear you." Because he _couldn't _keep doing this if the Angel didn't want it, and Dean wanted to know what Castiel sounded like as Dean slowly took him apart.

Castiel gasped when Dean _squeezed_ his fist around his cock, bucking up violently as he mewled. "You told me…to be quiet."

Dean almost laughed, shaking his head. "I was trying to be reassuring, Cas. You can be as loud as you want. I want to hear you," the Hunter said, almost rolling his eyes that his Angel had taken him so literally. "Tell me, Cas, tell me what you want."

"I want…I…" Castiel groaned, the sound frustrated and more than a little desperate – the Angel version of a profanity, because they couldn't blaspheme and Castiel wouldn't swear – his eyes clenching shut as he clung to Dean, shaking in the Hunter's arms as Dean kept…_touching, _bringing him to heights and sensations that he'd never known before. His wings trembled invisibly behind him. "_Dean._"

"Yeah, Cas, yeah…" Dean withdrew his hand, pushing Castiel onto his back again and climbing over him. "I got you – you're alright." He took a deep breath, hooking his fingers in Castiel's pants and underwear, pulling the clothes off impatiently. His cock was hard and straining in his jeans, and he wanted to be inside his Angel, like, yesterday. Castiel mewled pathetically when Dean pulled away from him, leaving him hard and unsatisfied, and tried sitting up to find his Hunter. "Lay down, Cas, I got you," Dean replied, suddenly there again, having shed the rest of his clothing so he and Castiel were now touching, naked skin against naked skin. The result was electric – fire running up the both of them, and Castiel shuddered as he felt his wings unfurl, heavy behind him and resting on the mattress. Dean's sharp intake of breath let the Angel know he'd seen them too.

"Damn, Cas…" Dean murmured, pulling back his instinctual blasphemy just in time, fingers searching and finding the ruffled down along the bottom edge of Castiel's left wing, and the Angel shuddered heavily, arching beneath him. It had never felt like this, grooming with his brothers – it was like the difference between an erotic massage and a friendly backrub. Dean's fingers were magical, coaxing some of the feathers the wrong way, creating such a delicious burn that it was all Castiel's mind could focus on, and for the first few minutes he didn't notice Dean preparing him.

They had to use spit, because a certain Archangel had cut them off from the lubricant. Dean was as careful as he could be, as he felt like he was able to be, but to him it would never have been enough. He couldn't hurt Castiel as an Angel – no – but within this safe circle Castiel was human. His wings meant nothing – Castiel was powerless and Dean was very capable of doing damage to his vessel, and regardless of whether it healed or not the Hunter would never forgive himself if Castiel felt pain for his first time.

One finger became two and eventually, when Dean felt like he was ready, three. Castiel was so overwhelmed, his vessel sending so many sensations to his brain, and Angels are designed to handle many trains of thought at one time, but for beings who aren't meant to feel sensation, Castiel's mind was exploding with it. The caresses in his wings; the distant burn of the fire; the heat of Dean's gaze and his body; the light pull and gentle stretch of Dean forcing him open, making his clenching muscles relax enough to accommodate him…it was too much. Dean was forcing him somewhere with his touches, to a place Castiel had never been, and it was absolutely terrifying, so much so that he stopped crying out for Dean and was forced into prayer, shouting to his absent Father for the strength and fortitude to trust his Hunter to take care of him, and lead him through these strange feelings and places.

Castiel was breathtaking when he lost control, the cold outer mask slipping, slipping, and eventually shattering as he gasped, moaned and shuddered against Dean. His inner muscles clenched tightly around the Hunter's fingers, forcing him deeper, keeping him inside, and the beautiful structure of his wings quivered around his writhing vessel. Cheeks flushed, eyes clenched as tightly as his jaw, throat bared and body covered in sweat, he was beautiful. Dean had never seen a more breathtaking image.

Dean crooked his fingers, obviously finding that place that would set Castiel's world on fire, for the Angel shouted, his rasp edged with the piercing whine that was his true voice, and Dean winced.

"Dean, please…Good Father in Heaven…_please…_" And Dean had mercy – Castiel almost collapsed against the mattress when Dean's fingers pulled out of him. The Angel couldn't get enough air into lungs that didn't strictly need it, but God help him, he felt like he did. Castiel felt more human here, with Dean, experiencing one of the most simple and base things human do, and he felt like Dean was the only thing keeping him afloat, alive in that ring of fire.

Dean shushed him again, gentler this time, sealing their lips together once more as he held Castiel's thighs up, sliding in, in one smooth stroke, that sent a long shudder and arch through both of them. Dean plastered himself to the Angel as they moved, completely in sync with each other. The only sounds were the crackling of the ring of fire, their heavy breathing and their thundering hearts. Occasionally there would be the rustle of wings as Castiel arched the giant appendages over the both of them, covering Dean's body with his feathers, which soon got slick from the human's sweat. The fire seemed to be burning hotter, their fever heightened, and neither of them were going to last long.

To be fair, foreplay had lasted almost two freaking years, but _still…_

Dean reached down between them, not finding enough air in the room as he wrapped his hand around Castiel in a suffocating, tight grip, twisting at the head as he jerked his Angel to completion beneath him, Castiel clamping down hard enough to force Dean's own orgasm from him. The Hunter continued to rock into Castiel, riding out their orgasms for all they were worth as he filled the Angel up, his arms and legs honest-to-God too tired to support himself. His head fell against Castiel's chest, instantly getting petted by Castiel's long, slender fingers as the Angel's wings fell around them, collapsing in boneless heaps back onto the bed.

They were both so exhausted that when the flames died down they didn't pay any attention, and Dean muttered what sounded like a 'Go fuck yourself, Gabriel', and pulled Castiel close, sliding out of the Angel with a low hiss, and they fell asleep together like that, dirty and sticky and so freaking satisfied it was unreal.

"That oughtta do it," Gabriel finally said, quite suddenly, after the seventh episode of 'Will and Grace' started to play. Sam checked his watch.

He raised an eyebrow, letting out a low whistle. "Took them long enough," he muttered, going back to pillow his head on his forearms, watching as Jack announced to Will that he was going to start performing in 'Jack 2001'. "What made you think of it?"

Gabriel shrugged, grinning. "I figured if I left Dean for long enough in there, he'd get hungry enough to swallow his pride and do the deed."

Sam stared at his lover for a moment. "That was an awful joke, Gabe."

"And I'm full of them."

"You're full of something."

"Shuddup," Gabriel drawled, snapping the TV off and the both of them under the covers, where he promptly snuggled up into Sam's arms – but Gabriel is _not _a cuddler, damn it, and he'll smite anyone who says otherwise. Sam yawned, and Gabriel found himself doing the same, even though the Archangel didn't need to sleep. "I'm beat. 'Night, Sammy."

Sam smiled, burrowing deeper into the snapped-into-existence-soft-as-satin sheets that Gabriel had conjured. "Yeah, sure," he said, voice already slurring with exhaustion – hey, matchmaking is a tiring process, especially with all the waiting. "'Night, Gabe."

"Goodnight, John-boy."

"Shut up."


End file.
